


A Perfectly Reasonable Response

by Persiflager



Series: Reasonableness [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflager/pseuds/Persiflager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is cross with Sherlock. Mycroft helps by seducing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfectly Reasonable Response

Mycroft arrived at the hospital to find John sitting outside Sherlock’s room, writing in a notebook. Judging by the bags under his eyes and his bitten lower lip, Sherlock was now in a stable enough condition for John’s anger to outweigh his concern. Mycroft stepped into the room to watch his brother’s sleeping form. He glanced over the medical chart, noted that there would be no long-term implications of Sherlock’s recklessness, and went back outside and sat down next to John.

“That,” said John without looking up, “was the seventeenth worst thing that he’s ever done. I don’t even know how he got in the woodshed in the first place.”

Mycroft frowned. “Worse than the cobra? I’ve arranged for compensation to be sent to the newlyweds, by the way.” 

John cursed and scribbled something out. “Eighteenth. And thank you.”

Mycroft thought for a moment. “One hundred and seventy-third, for me.”

John finally looked up at him.

“His teenage years were quite a challenge,” elaborated Mycroft.

“Ah,” said John. He tucked the notebook away in his coat pocket and sat back. “He’s going to be absolutely fine,” he said in a tired voice. “Not even a bruise. Pleased as punch that he solved the case, obviously.” 

Mycroft looked at the dejected slump of John’s shoulders. He’d always been rather fond of John, in his own way; his stubbornness made for quite an amusing match against Sherlock, and he was one of the very few people who wasn’t intimidated by Mycroft.

And, of course, Mycroft had always had rather a ‘thing’ for soldiers.

“Would you like to make him cross?” he said in a voice that was carefully mild.

John brightened up a bit. “Yes. Not that easy, though – he tends to tune out what I say if he doesn’t want to hear it, and he’ll just get me back if I mess with any of his stuff.”

“You could always withhold carnal relations,” said Mycroft, feeling mischievous.

John looked at him askance. “You know perfectly well that we’re not like that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Mycroft, who wasn’t. “He always did get so jealous of your girlfriends, and it’s been such a long time since you ....”

John’s expression was a curious mix of sexual frustration and annoyance (as he remembered exactly who was to blame for said frustration). Mycroft made up his mind. He’d restrained himself from making any overtures towards John thus far out of respect for Sherlock’s territorial nature, but letting that tasty morsel go to waste ought to be a crime.

“You know, John,” said Mycroft in a low voice, “Sherlock does really, really hate me.”

He watched the expressions play across John’s face until he could see the exact moment when the two ideas collided, and then he placed one hand on John’s knee.

John froze at the touch and looked sidelong at Mycroft before relaxing. He grinned.

“Alright then.”

They both stood up quickly and turned to stride down the corridor. Mycroft walked slightly behind John, and placed a hand on his lower back to steer him unerringly towards a nearby supply cupboard. John picked the lock while Mycroft stood watch (taking the opportunity to admire the tightness of the denim across John’s thighs as he crouched against the door) and, after a quick check that the coast was clear, they both tumbled into the tiny room.

Neither of them went for the light-switch, and there was a moment of awkwardness when Mycroft stood on John’s foot and John elbowed Mycroft in the stomach. Mycroft tutted and took control of the situation by the simple expedient of grabbing John’s hips and pushing him back against the door.

“Hel-lo, Dr Watson,” he murmured into John’s ear as he pressed his body gently against John’s and felt an answering swell against his thigh. John grabbed Mycroft’s backside with pleasing enthusiasm.

“Oh, that’s a lovely arse,” John said. He was quiet but not overly so; this was definitely not his first foray into semi-public sex. Mycroft recalled a rather dull work meeting a few months ago in which he’d passed the time by deducing John’s sexual history and proclivities. He’d had to stop after twenty pages when he ran out of paper.

“And such a pretty mouth you’ve got on you,” said Mycroft in a low tone. He brought his lips round from John’s ear to his mouth and kissed him firmly. John responded by opening his mouth and sliding his tongue slowly against Mycroft’s, to which Mycroft gave a soft groan.

John brought one of his hands up to the nape of Mycroft’s head and pulled him closer. They snogged lustily for a few moments while rocking their hips together, until Mycroft lost patience and reached down to palm John’s erection.

John gave a gratifying whimper as Mycroft nimbly unzipped his jeans and eased his cock out just far enough to stroke. It was beautifully hot and hard in his hand, and John’s hips quivered in response to Mycroft’s steady rhythm. He used his free hand to brace himself on the door as he bent down to kiss John’s neck.

“Christ, that’s nice,” whispered John. He’d managed to undo Mycroft’s flies but hadn’t quite got the right angle to remove any of his clothing, and had settled for running his thumb roughly up and down the underwear seam immediately over Mycroft’s erection. Mycroft ignored the sensation in favour of redoubling his efforts on John’s prick, and was rewarded with a gorgeous groan in his ear as John came hot and wet in his hand.

John sagged against Mycroft for just a moment before straightening with soldierly precision and spinning round so that Mycroft was leaning up against the door. His determination to regain control was ever so endearing. Mycroft would have smiled if John hadn’t dropped immediately to his knees, taking Mycroft’s trousers and underwear with him, and wrapped his lips around Mycroft’s stiff prick.

He took half of Mycroft’s length in the first swallow before easing the rest slowly down his throat in a series of teasing bobs of his head. Mycroft clapped one hand over his mouth to suppress the moans, and let the other one lightly tangle itself in John’s hair.

John was using one hand to steady himself against the door while he worked his mouth vigorously up and down Mycroft’s cock. He brought the other one up to caress Mycroft’s balls and stroke his perineum, and Mycroft couldn’t decide whether he’d mark John higher for skill or enthusiasm.

Either way, he thought giddily, his report would be _glowing_.

John slowed and used his hands to pull Mycroft’s hips slightly forward. Mycroft took the hint and fucked John’s mouth with heady abandon, thrusting hard and fast until he came with a grunt.

John slowly pulled his mouth off Mycroft’s cock with a slurp. Mycroft tucked himself away and reached down to help John up.

“You know,” said John casually as he zipped himself back up, “he’s going to be absolutely _livid_.”

Mycroft smiled lasciviously. “Yes,” he said. “It was excellent for me as well.”


End file.
